


Love Among the Dead

by FleetSparrow



Category: Original Work
Genre: Archaeology, Diary/Journal, Letters, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:40:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23728450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleetSparrow/pseuds/FleetSparrow
Summary: In which an archaeologist meets a museum curator unlike any he's known, and eventually falls in love.Letters between James Banning, Archaeologist, and Dr. Abdul Hakib, museum curator, along with diary entries from James Banning.
Relationships: Weary 1920s Archaeologist Who Has Seen Some Shit/Museum Curator Who Is Fed Up With Colonialism
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16
Collections: Unsent Letters 2020





	Love Among the Dead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sanguinity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguinity/gifts).



Dr Hakib,

In regards to your recent proposition of recovering the lost mummy of Akhenrah, I must, respectfully, decline.

As you know from the rather…extensive history of my life that you compiled and shared in your last letter, I have been on digs as old as the opening of Ananka’s tomb to as recent as the discovery of Tutankhamen. I know that you, too, must have noticed my pattern of survival amidst the cursed members of my teams and are most likely counting on that survival to bring the mummy successfully to your museum. I have also received an offer from the British Museum—which, I should mention, was considerably larger in reward than your own—and now must,again, reject your offer.

Please do not ask me again.

Ever your humble servant,

James Banning

* * *

My dearest Mr Banning,

I am afraid I have been misunderstood. Perhaps that was my own fault in my writing. You see, I do not wish for you to find the mummy for display in my own museum. Rather, I am trying to keep you from fulfilling the British Museum’s terms and stealing our king for their amusement. Mummies are nothing more than curiosities to your people, but they are our kings, our history, our dead. Just as you would consider digging up your Admiral Nelson, or, perhaps more appropriately, your Richard the First, as grave robbing, so, too, do we consider your British method of stealing our dead to be grave robbing.

I can show you to the tomb, if you are interested in seeing history preserved, but I warn you, do not attempt to tell others about its location. As you know from first-hand experience, the curses guarding the tombs of our ancestors are still strong today.

I anticipate your reply.

Regards,

Dr Abdul Hakib, Curator

* * *

Dr Hakib,

I have no intention of fulfilling the British Museum’s request to open Akhenrah’s tomb. I must inform you that, while I will not be opening it, they will continue to send those like me to find it and bring its treasures back to England. There are still those more foolish than I who would happily give their lives to open the tomb, curses and their own souls be damned. For my part, I am very tired of fighting the undead, whether wielded by the living or autonomous.

It is, of course, a thrilling opportunity to be able to see the tomb as it stands now, and I do accept that offer. I await your further instruction.

Your humble servant,

James Banning

* * *

From the diary of James Banning, renowned archaeologist:

I met Hakib in the city around seven a.m. The day was set to be a hot one, and I wanted to see the tomb and be gone from there before the hottest part of the day. He was amiable enough, rather jolly in his own way, perhaps bolstered by the knowledge that I, at least, would not be taking away another of his kings to a far off, much colder land.

Forgive me. The heat is getting to me. Where was I? Ah, yes.

We traveled some ten miles from the city into the heart of the desert, down dunes until we reached a small valley. Akhenrah had been buried where he’d died, too far from his home to be transferred back there, much like Ananka. There was no Scroll of Life to be found in this tomb, however, and thank God for that!

Hakib showed me the anterior of the tomb, hidden for so many years by sand and dust. He told me that it had been recently discovered by diggers looking for a well from a river that had supposedly run through the area thousands of years ago, and was, perhaps, still underground flowing somewhere.

I can hardly describe the tomb, except to say that its beauty is etched in my memory. The colors were dulled, but had once been vibrant before the layers of sand had covered them. The hieroglyphs warned of a curse on those who would disturb the rest of the great king, and, of course, I was loath to risk it. Hakib, for his part, was an expert guide. I wish I had had him on many other of my digs, as his knowledge was invaluable.

During the hot afternoon, he took me to the museum he curated. Within it resided treasures from the Greeks and Romans, and other invaders to his land. He had curated then with the same dispassionate interest that so many of the English curators showed, marking things for ritual purposes that we had known the answers to.

I asked him about this and he laughed and said that if any Englishman would show him its use, he would update them, but, as they stood, they were for local amusement. I must confess, I felt quite humbled by him.

I'm set to have dinner with him tonight. I hope to learn more about his work. He is, apparently, quite well known in the world of the Arabic scholars.

* * *

Dinner was…

[Several lines are begun, then crossed out, rendering them mostly illegible.]

I asked Hakib if he would permit me to further study this region and his own collection of relics that have been passed down through his family line. He took me to his home after dinner to show them to me and it wasn’t long after that I found myself in his arms. Later that night, I told him about the things I’ve seen during my vocation and he told me the legends that had been passed down through his mother’s family. Sharing these stories brought us closer, and, after another round of love-making, he asked me to stay on as something of a go-between for his studies back to England. As the British Museum had funded—and would certainly stop funding my excursions once my letter rejecting their offer arrived—most of my ventures, the promise of staying so fully in the country I have come to love, and staying near Abdul, filled me with excitement.

I will be breaking down my camp and moving in with him tomorrow. I foresee this to be a most fortuitous joining of minds.


End file.
